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Swallow a tablet that tastes
like chalk. Chase it
with an aspirin. Already
shorter than at 60, bones
thinner, body that much
closer to the grave, I almost
trip in the clearing where a bruised
moon looms above black branches. Can I
slip through these pines without
falling? Can my husband—no spring
chicken himself—catch me? Snow
crumbles under my skin
as the moon blooms only
Copyright 2018 Beth Copeland
Beth Copeland’s most recent collection is Blue Honey published by Broadkill River Press. She lives with her husband Phil Rech and hound dog Kasey in a log cabin in North Carolina.
This is wonderful. I will check out Beth’s new collection.
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